


Prompt: Fuck or Die

by romanoff



Series: snippets/WIPs [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Bad Guys Made Them Do It, Dubious Consent, Hurt Tony, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Omega Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 12:28:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15606279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanoff/pseuds/romanoff
Summary: Synposis: exactly what the title says. This story is a snippet, and so unfinished.





	Prompt: Fuck or Die

**Author's Note:**

> When I'm bored/lack inspiration, I upload all my WIPS and let people select which ones they like best. So, let me know if you like!

“You know,” Ross sighs, crouching by the table, sliding one heavy, oppressive arm across Tony’s shoulders, weighing him down. “This isn’t what I wanted, Tony. You weren’t my first choice, you weren’t even on my list. Honestly, truly.”  
   
His eyes are smiling, like it’s all a big joke. Tony says nothing; he can’t.  
   
“Too high-profile, too… old. I wanted someone a little younger, maybe even someone I could take for a test run,” and he walks his fingers up Tony’s spine, grins, all teeth. “This isn’t ideal. It isn’t biologically perfect. But I tell you what,” he says, and blows smoke in Tony’s face, “it is gratifying.”  
   
 Tony chokes, his eyes redden and water. He coughs, brittle, uncomfortable with the gag cutting into the soft skin of his lips. He doesn’t try and say anything in response; he would only embarrass himself. Instead, he tries to project with his eyes. Not that Ross cares.  
   
Ross pulls himself closer, so they’re almost nose to nose. He tips his head, rests a hand heavy on the side of Tony’s head, invasive, investigating, cigar held between two fingers. _He’s going to singe my hair,_ Tony thinks, snuffing, trying to pull away. “Easy,” Ross says quietly, suddenly focused, mocking put aside. “Don’t jerk. I’ll burn you.”  
   
It’s not a threat, it’s advice. Experimentally, he pushes two fingers past the metal bit keeping Tony’s mouth wide open; deeper and deeper, and Tony doesn’t flinch. Not till the fingers hit the back of his throat, and he gags, eyes watering, dribbling around his hand.  
   
Ross removes it. His fingers are rough. Prying. He pinches the fat of Tony’s cheek, strokes a hand across the short cropped hair of his nape. “Now,” he says, steadily, chin resting next to Tony’s. “This doesn’t have to be difficult. Keep in mind that whatever’s about to happen is going to happen, whether you make it hard for yourself or not. You can tighten up if you like, it won’t stop him from knotting you. It’ll hurt, though, I bet.  
   
“I know you think this isn’t in your nature. Well that’s a lie; this _is_ your nature. This is what you were born for, bred for. I think, deep down, secretly, you want this. You don’t even mind it. You can be good, and passive, and sweet. Don’t you think? Do you agree?”  
   
Tony wants to spit in his face but he can’t so he does nothing. Ross takes this to mean acceptance.  
   
“Good,” he says briskly, pulling back. He stubs out the cigar in front of Tony’s eyes, close to his eyes, close enough that he has to blink away ash. He stands, brushes down his coat, pulls on leather gloves. “Take me out, boys,” he says, walking away. “Whose the first? Number 7? Ah, excellent. What was that? Hah, yes, you got me there. No no, it’s the First Lady’s birthday, and I couldn’t possibly miss it…”  
   
His voice trails away, as do his heavy, clipped footsteps. The door shuts with a metallic bang. It echoes. Tony huffs, sweat staining his brow. It rolls down his cheek. It tickles.  
   
The door, sliding open. Grunting, like a – like a wild animal. Tony tries to reason. “Wait,” he tries to say, but he can’t speak with the gag. “Please,” he wants to add, when he feels rough hands digging into the soft, chubby flesh of his thighs.  
   
The person – the alpha – sniffs him. Tastes him. Bites him, on his plump ass, on one exposed foot, the sensitive sole. Tony cries out behind the gag. He hopes Ross isn’t watching this, he hopes no one sees this, ever.  
   
The alpha must realise he isn’t ready, because he does things, touches places, that makes Tony get wet. And when he’s wet, he does what he was put here to do. Tony takes it, silently, even when it hurts.  
   
After he’s knotted (eleven minutes and 21 seconds), snuffling at Tony’s neck, the alpha withdraws. Tony’s thighs are shaking. There’s fluid tickling his balls; he can’t keep it all inside, and he tries to flex to push as much out as he can. He hears the alpha still grunting around the room, mindless.  
   
   
   
“You’ll like this,” the tech says roughly, slipping the sack over his head. “Trust me, Stark, this one’s a doozy.”  
   
Bigger, probably. The tech’s are mostly professional, but unfortunately they are – human. Sometimes they slip a feel, take liberties. They like it when he gets fucked, really fucked. Sometimes they tell him they watch it back for posterity.  
   
The sack is new. It’s rough, scratchy against his cheek. Kinda makes it hard to breathe.  
   
   
   
He’s fucked, ferociously. The man is panting behind him, fingers bruising his hips, shaking him with the force of it. Another rutting beast. He doesn’t last long; he knots four minutes, twenty-seven seconds in. Groans, resting his brow against Tony’s sweaty back.  
   
It takes another three minutes, forty-one seconds for him to deflate fully and slip out. A quickie. It won’t please Ross, or the Head. Tony rolls his eyes with frustration; he’ll be blamed, somehow. He should have arched his back more, clenched harder, clenched less, made noise, done anything to make him last –  
   
The man has stopped panting. “I’m sorry,” he breathes, he croaks. Tony’s first thought it, _that makes a pleasant change._ His next thought is –  
   
He knows that voice.  
   
“I’m sorry,” Steve says again, weary. “God, I can’t – control myself. I’m sorry. I don’t know they gave me, I…” he trails off, and rests one hand on Tony’s calf, “I shouldn’t be self-pitying. God knows what they’ve done to you.”  
   
It’s Steve.  
   
It’s _Steve._  
   
Tony groans. He’s trying to speak – forgets for a second that he can’t, and it comes out as a strangled moan. He arches his back, tugs at the restraints. _Help me!_ He’s thinking, desperate, jubilant. _Fucking get me out! Do something! Break them!_  
   
“God, you poor thing, I didn’t mean – sorry. I won’t touch you.”  
   
No, you ignoramus. Let me go! Fucking _help me!_  
  
“You – “ Steve’s voice is closer, now. “I didn’t realise. Can you breathe with that?”  
   
Frantically, Tony shakes his head. “Nu-uh,” he manages, muffled. “Nu-uh!”  
   
“Oh, you – c’mere. It’s alright, I won’t hurt you, I’m – hey, if it’s worth anything, I used to be Captain America. I don’t know how I ended up – you smell hurt. Are you hurt?” Steve’s fingers are fiddling with the stays keeping the hood in place. “Let me get a look at you – “  
   
He rips it off. Tony takes breaths, deep, gulping breaths like a man freshly drowned. The air is like – it’s good, is all his white-out mind can think. Better than an orgasm. The stuffy heat, the taste of cotton, the stupid damp spot where Tony breathed the material against his face. For a while, all Tony can do is _gasp._ His eyes are watering again, the world is fuzzy, adjusting to the light. And when clarity returns –  
   
Steve is staring at him, a horrified picture. A mix of anger and fear and worry and pain. “You – you – Tony?”  
   
Tony can’t say anything. The gag is pretty self-explanatory. He just gazes at Steve warily, waiting for the other foot to drop.  
   
“Did Ross put you up to this?” He spits. “Did _you_ – do this? Is this your grand plan? Your – your scheme – “  
   
Tony would be hurt if he wasn’t so numb. Wearily, he shakes his head.  
   
“You – “ Steve blusters, “you – you – you didn’t choose this? I mean – does Ross know – “  
   
Tiredly, Tony nods.  
   
Steve unstraps the gag and throws it across the room. Tony groans, rolls his jaw till it cracks. “Thanks,” he croaks, voice hoarse with disuse. “That thing is a real pain in the ass.”  
   
Steve doesn’t respond, he’s trying to break the restraints. “Don’t bother,” Tony sighs. “They’re biosignatures, and I’d rather you didn’t break my ankles.”  
   
“Explain,” Steve snarls, still pulling at the whole disgusting apparatus.  
   
“I don’t know,” Tony says, simply. “Stop it, you’re hurting me.”  
   
Steve stops, abruptly. He swings back round, and when he realises Tony is straining to look up at him, crouches. “Explain,” he says again, quieter.  
   
His hair is longer. His skin is tanned. He has a beard. “Breeding,” Tony says shortly. “They chose me. Because I’m clever. Because they want me out the way.”  
   
“How. When.”  
   
“I don’t know.”  
   
“You must,” Steve scoffs.  
   
“I _don’t._ I don’t know how long I’ve been here. I don’t even know when I was taken.”  
   
Steve stares. “They – how many?”  
   
“How many what?”  
   
“How many have – been in this room.”  
   
“You’re the third,” Tony says irritably, eyes closing. If Steve isn’t going to help, he shouldn’t ask stupid questions.  
   
“You’ve been raped three times.”  
   
“Mmm, no. More like eleven or twelve. It’s not one and done, they go again. As long as they need to.”  
   
“To what?”  
   
“Show I’m not pregnant. They’re – I don’t know. Trying to breed more supersoldiers, I think. But the soldiers they have aren’t fertile. Shooting blanks. So…”  
   
“So – they got me.”  
   
“They got you,” Tony mutters, irritated. “How’d that happen? They catch you in a fair fight or – “  
   
“Doesn’t matter. I got – tricked,” he says shortly. Tony can fill in the blanks. “Is that – does that hurt?”  
   
“What?”  
   
“Being – you know. That’s an awkward position.”  
  
Steve is flushing, slightly. Is he self-conscious? Tony isn’t. Tony’s body doesn’t belong to him, it’s just flesh wrapped over bone and blood, he’s just a hole, really. A hole for fucking, and spitting out the perfectly bred genetic wonders they need. There’s no need to blush, Steve.  
   
“I got used to it. Knees hurt like a bitch, though.”  
   
“I’m surprised they’re letting us talk like this.”  
   
Tony supresses a sigh. “You’re about to go into rut again,” he says. “Like I said, it happens more than once.”  
   
“I won’t,” Steve swears, “I won’t touch you. I’m not an animal, Tony, you’ll see. I won’t touch you, never.”  
   
 _Yes, you will,_ Tony thinks tiredly. _They always do._  
   
   
And he does.  
   
He holds out about four hours, by which point Tony’s knees and hips are starting to hurt and he wishes he would just get it over with. He has to listen to Steve increasingly pained grunts, his attempts at taking himself in hand, waylaying the rut, lasting it out. At some point, just as Tony predicted, his hindbrain takes over; he seems to forget that it’s Tony behind the peachy ass and wet hole, and forces himself inside again, and again, and again, ferocious, vicious.  
   
It hurts, this time.  
   
“I’m so sorry,” Steve chatters after he’s swelled inside him, locked and loaded. “I don’t know what I thought I – I lost it. I lost it, Tony, I’m so sorry.”  
   
He wishes Steve would just shut up.  
   
He puts up a fight when they tase him and drag him from the room. “No!” He insists. “Don’t you fucking – let him go, you hear me? Let him go! He’s – “  
   
   
“Tony,” Ross says sweetly, lighting up. “Did you have a nice day today, darling?”  
   
Tony says nothing. He rolls onto his side, faces the wall, and hugs himself, knees tucked to his chest. Ross is a gnat, a fly. He doesn’t matter, inconsequential.  
   
“I think Rogers enjoyed himself, anyway. Don’t ask how we got him, point is we did.”  
   
Tony can feel him, trickling out between his legs.  
   
Ross comes here, sometimes. Just to taunt him. Maybe he has official business that need attending to here, and Tony is like the dessert. A little check-up. Just to fuck with him.  
   
He kicks the bed, and Tony jerks. He hadn’t been expecting it; he falls into the position by rote, hands cupping the back of his head, chin tucked to his chest, legs drawn up to his belly. Protective, and weak, and scared. Ross is laughing at him, rattling the frame, but Tony has lost weight and isn’t as strong as he used to be. The sudden movements unsettle him.  
   
“We thought a human connection might work better, you know?” Ross is saying, conversationally. “He might have the touch. You might even enjoy it, who knows.”  
   
Tony is silent.  
   
“Unfortunately, though,” and he hears Ross’s belt sliding from its loops, “we need to spur him on. One of the techs was going to do it, but I thought – wouldn’t it just be sweet coming from me?”  
   
He knows what’s coming.  
   
“Scream,” Ross whispers, dipping to his ear. “He can hear you, you know. Scream, so he knows what we’re doing.”  
   
Ross beats him, with the leather and buckle end of his sharp, $1000-belt.  
   
   
The next time, they put him on his back, spread his legs, and don’t gag him at all. He’s bruised, red welts smacked with purple and black on his back, his inner thighs, his ass and chest. The side of his face is swollen, disfigured, from where Ross kicked him.  
   
“They hurt you,” Steve breathes. He’s sweaty, pupils blown. He’s trying to stop himself, Tony knows. “Is that because of me? Is it because I spoke to you? Is it because – “  
   
“Just do it,” Tony interrupts. “Please,” he adds.  
   
“They hurt you,” Steve continues to froth at the mouth. “They hurt you, you smell – “ he ducks his head, scents Tony’s neck, his chest, behind his ears, snuffles at his body like he has a right. “I smell you, hurt.”  
   
Aww, poor Steve. Losing all his precious little mental faculties.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this, please leave a comment and subscribe! If I update, I'll do it on this work, so you'll be notified. If you enjoyed reading, please tell me what you liked/would like to see, and consider reading the other WIPs in the series to cast your vote.
> 
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